


Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You

by CatAvalon (CazinaIna)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Crack, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Music, Romantic Fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 03:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CazinaIna/pseuds/CatAvalon
Summary: Every day, when he wakes up with his head pillowed on Beka’s chest, he wonders what he ever did to deserve this, to deserve the undivided and unconditional love that Otabek gives him. Yuri’s no saint. He gets angry, he cusses and spits and swears until the words run out and he’s gasping for air, yet Beka’s always there, waiting patiently for him to find himself amongst the chaos he’s created, ready to lead him home.





	Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neveraines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neveraines/gifts).



> Hi, I got stuck writing what I'm supposed to be working on so here's an entry for 60's music week instead inspired by the music of Frankie Valli- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcJm1pOswfM

“Are we really doing this?” There’s a blindfold over his eyes that’s slipping down his nose, and over the top of it he can _just_ make out the unmistakable glow of flickering candles. “Beka, c’mon, I know what you’re doing.”

“You’re going to ruin the surprise.” Otabek’s voice is low and deep, much closer than he’s expecting. The only warning he gets is the heady heat of his breath ghosting the shell of his ear and a teasing bite to his lobe. Then, there are lips trailing down Yuri’s neck, nipping and sucking and skimming his sensitive pulse point with a tantalising scrape of teeth. A moan builds up in throat, and he seeks Otabek’s mouth, wanting him to swallow the sound. 

Aggravatingly, he draws away, one hand resting on the small of Yuri’s back, the other fiddling to slide the blindfold back into place. A petulant pout is rewarded with one chaste kiss the Yuri chases after, sucking his teeth when Otabek moves away once again. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Yura.”

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be spoiling me,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. He wanders a few steps forwards, stumbling as he bumps into the counter, or a chair, or something that is fucking pointy enough to jab him hard in the stomach. Otabek chuckles, and Yuri spins on him. “And you’re not even doing it properly! God, the least you could do is give me a decent kiss.”

“We’ll get to that,” Otabek says, taking his hand this time and guiding him further into the kitchen. There’s a scraping of a chair, and then Yuri’s being led down, grumpily resting his elbows on the table in the way he knows Beka hates. “You could be a bit more enthusiastic, I’m trying to be romantic.”

“Try harder, then,” he mutters under his breath, and even as he says it, he knows he’s being harsh. It’s been a long day, his body is sore from the ice and he’s looking forward to his off day tomorrow, and all he really longs for is their king size bed, maybe an orgasm or two, and a twelve hour sleep with Potya curled on his chest. He doesn’t even need his sight to know Otabek’s face has fallen, he can hear it in the stuttered little breath he drags in, how he gently lets go of his shoulder and takes a step away. “Beka-”

“Can’t I do something nice for you?” he interrupts, and Yuri hangs his head, hair falling to hopefully hide the ashamed flush that’s burning his cheeks. 

It’s not unknown to them that their ideas on romance contrast. Yuri’s shows affection in the hard massage he gives Otabek after a nasty fall on the ice, in the sleepy morning blow jobs followed by coffee in bed, in sacrificing the wildlife documentary he wants to watch in favour of some stuffy old Soviet history program. Otabek, though, he doesn’t work in the same way. He’s a sucker for flowers, and long, late night rides on the bike. The kind of guy who takes Valentine’s day way too seriously, getting a simple card and an _IOU_ in return for his admirable efforts. Last year, it was a fancy dinner at Yuri’s favourite Italian place and a delicate diamond necklace that’s sitting in the hollow between his collarbones right now.

So maybe they don’t see eye to eye. That definitely doesn’t excuse Yuri’s behaviour, he knows this, and he’s suffering the consequences in the way his chest tightens in the absence of Otabek’s touch, the way his throat clenches, too, when he can hear his footsteps fading away.

“You can,” he says, and his voice cracks with the intensity of it. “You can, Beka, I’m sorry. I’m just tired, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he says quickly, fingers tightening on the table. “I want everything you give me.”

“Okay.” Yuri startles when he feels Beka’s touch against his cheek but melts easily into his palm, nose nuzzling between the gaps in his fingers. Otabek always smells good, and his hands are the same, tea tree soap and the woodsy notes from the  _ Tom Ford _ moisturiser Yuri bought him to keep in his skating bag. Beneath that, though, is the spice of whatever he’s been cooking whilst Mila and him had gotten coffee- and shit, that hag, she’s definitely in on this, and now Yuri feels even worse for raining on Otabek’s parade.

“Go on, then, loverboy,” Yuri says, pressing a kiss into his palm.“Whisk me off my feet.”

Otabek’s laughter vibrates through his body, shaking away the last of Yuri’s guilt. “Stay here.”

“I’m hardly going anywhere,” Yuri snorts, gesturing to his face. “I don’t wanna accidentally set myself on fire or some shit.”

Yuri knows Otabek’s gone this time when he hears clattering deeper in the apartment. It’s surreal, relying on every other sense besides sight. So much of what he does relies on being able to see: observing routines, and then memorising them, and then knowing where he is at all times when he’s on the rink. Chewing his lip, Yuri wonders whether it’s actually possible, skating without sight, considers taking the blindfold to practice to find out, imagining how red Yakov’s face would be if he saw him flying around with a slip of silk tied over his eyes. Not, he realises with a chuckle, that he’d be able to see the angry vein bulging in his forehead until it’s halfway deflated again.

“What’s so funny?” Otabek asks, voice accompanied by soft padding against the hardwood. There’s another noise too, a soft clicking, and Yuri only realises it’s Potya when that cat’s launching himself onto his lap, claws instantly kneading into his thighs. 

“Nothing,” Yuri says, absently stroking the feline’s fur. “There isn’t anything that’ll hurt him, is there?”

“I’ll keep an eye on his tail.”

“Beka,” Yuri whines, scooping Potya into his arms. He meows softly, and Yuri feels the tip of a wet nose nudge against his cheek.

“He’s fine, Yura, I promise.” Yuri doesn’t let him go, though. If anything, he cradles the cat closer despite the little mewls of annoyance. “Now, are you ready for your first surprise?”

Yuri rolls his eyes, but he knows it doesn’t have the same dramatic effect it usually would. “As long as my last one ends with us both naked, then yes. I’m ready, Beka.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Maybe some sort of kinky dinner, eating food off a body part and trying to guess what it is, or maybe Yuri himself being the dinner. Yeah, he wouldn’t mind that, not at all, having Beka ravish him with his tongue until he’s squirming beneath him, begging for more. That’d be more fun tied up, though, and Yuri’s fingers are still knitted in Potya’s fur. Unless Otabek had left to go find the handcuffs. They were probably still under the bed from after the last time they’d-

Oh. Music- not that Yuri’s disappointed. Otabek definitely knows how to set the mood with a simple song. Their first time having sex was accompanied by an honest to god one hour sapfest of a playlist filled with all kinds of cheesy love songs. Yuri will never forget coming to the gentle crooning of Michael Bublé, can’t even listen to jazz now without his cheeks flaming.  _ You could have found something a little cooler  _ he’d said, face buried in the crook of Otabek’s neck, gently biting at his clavicle.  _ Like Iron Maiden, or Guns N' Roses or some shit.  _ Beka had just laughed, murmuring something about heavy metal being a mood killer, and sung along to the next song on the playlist.

_ You’re just too good to be true _

_ Can’t take my eyes off of you _

_ You’re like heaven to touch _

_ I want to hold you so much _

The same song’s playing now, though it isn’t the  _ Frankie Valli _ version that Beka had first confessed his love to, when Yuri was too fucked out and hazy with pleasure to say it back. This is an acoustic mix, with a deep gravelly voice serenading softly over sweet strummings of a guitar. Familiar, somehow, in that foggy way that makes Yuri think he’s heard it before, yet he can’t quite put his finger on it. Potya struggles in his arms, so he drops the cat safely (he hopes) to the floor and simply listens.

_ At long last love has arrived _

_ And I thank God I'm alive _

_ You're just too good to be true _

_ Can't take my eyes off you _

Otabek gently takes one of his hands, guiding him to his feet. Naturally, Yuri steps closer into him, fumbling for a moment before he’s wrapping both of his arms around Beka’s neck. Leaning in for a kiss, his mouth bumps against the sharp bone of Beka’s jaw, but Yuri doesn’t mind, following the trail of stubble up until their lips meet and everything aligns once more. 

_ Pardon the way that I stare _

_ There's nothing else to compare _

_ The sight of you leaves me weak _

_ There are no words left to speak _

Otabek hands tighten around his waist as Yuri bites down on his bottom lip, slowly grinding their hips together in time with the song. It could count as dancing, if you _really_ squint, but obviously Yuri isn’t able to judge anything visible right now. Instead, he focuses on swaying to the music, on the feeling of Beka’s fingers sneaking under his top, thumbs rubbing in circles over the dimples in his back. How his breath hitches when Yuri presses harder into him, showing Otabek just how affected by him he is, how he always is, whether with the tiniest of touches or the heat of his entire body flush against his own.

_ But if you feel like I feel _

_ Please let me know that is real _

_ You're just too good to be true _

_ I can't take my eyes off you  _

Yuri wishes he could see right now, could draw away and stare up into the depths of Beka’s eyes instead of being stuck with this sickly grey blur from where light is filtering through the fabric. Knitting his fingers into the lengths of Otabek’s hair, Yuri leads him back to him again until their noses are bumping, the heat of each other’s breath spanning over their skin. 

_ I love you baby _

_ And if it's quite all right _

_ I need you baby _

_ To warm the lonely nights _

_ I love you baby _

_ Trust in me when I say _

Agonisingly, Otabek pulls away, but only for a moment. His nose drags over the peaks of Yuri’s cheekbones to nestle at the hair of his temple for a moment. Yuri wants to whine, to fuss until Otabek’s mouth returns where it rightfully belongs- on his own. But he doesn’t, because obviously he has a plan, and Yuri doesn’t want to dampen the mood yet another time tonight.

_ Oh pretty baby _

_ Don't bring me down I pray _

_ Oh pretty baby _

_ Now that I've found you stay _

_ And let me love you, baby _

_ Let me love you _

Teeth skim over his ear, and Yuri arches his back, wanting so desperately to feel Otabek on top of him, beneath him, inside him- just anything where there are less clothes and more touching, more skin moving against skin until there’s nothing but sensuous sighs of pleasure between them.

When Beka lips finally,  _ finally _ , return to Yuri’s own, he realises that he’s singing along, and Yuri can feel every word, every syllable caressing the curve of his cupid’s bow. And then it clicks, now he can hear the two different voices blending together- except they’re not different. 

They’re the same.

“You fucking sap!” Yuri announces, scratching at the bristles of Otabek’s undercut in frustration  “That’s you!”

“Yeah, it is.” He doesn’t sound ashamed- fuck, why would he be, when he has the voice of Orpheus, and the musicianship to match?  _ God, is there anything the man can’t do? _ Yuri shakes his head, unbelieving. Not because it’s Otabek, but because he’s done this for him, something so uniquely special that holds sentimentality to both of them. 

Every day, when he wakes up with his head pillowed on Beka’s chest, he wonders what he ever did to deserve this, to deserve the undivided and unconditional love that Otabek gives him. Yuri’s no saint. He gets angry, he cusses and spits and swears until the words run out and he’s gasping for air, yet Beka’s always there, waiting patiently for him to find himself amongst the chaos he’s created, ready to lead him home. 

Something Yuri  _ really _ hopes isn’t tears starts to clench at his throat, and he tries to disguise a traitorous sniffle as a deep inhale of the intimate scent of Beka’s skin.

_ You're just too good to be true _

_ Can't take my eyes off you _

 “It’s true, Yura,” Otabek says, slowing their swaying so they’re simply embracing, resting his hands just high enough above his ass to be innocent, but Yuri knows him better than that. “I could never take my eyes off of you, even if I tried”

“I mean,” Yuri begins, stepping away and gesturing once again to his face. “I’d say the same thing right back, Beka, but I literally can’t see anything right now.”

“Oh, shit.” Yuri hears him swallow, can just imagine the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple. “I was supposed to take that off. I’m an idiot.

“You are an idiot,” Yuri agrees, throwing his head back in laughter. Apparently, there really were some things Otabek couldn’t do, like remembering to untie his boyfriend’s blindfold before a big, romantic gesture. “But you’re my idiot, so get me out of this thing so I can see your stupid face.”

Otabek doesn’t need to be told twice, and soon Yuri’s blinking against the brightness until all he can see is the tender smile that tugs at the corners of Beka’s mouth, and Yuri wants to taste it, wants to run his tongue over it and memorise the little quiver the trembles through Beka’s bottom lip when he finally captures it between his teeth. So he does, for a minute at least, losing himself in the slow heat of Otabek’s mouth on his, the way his hands sink lower now to massage the flesh at the very backs of his thighs.

Only when he’s dizzy and gasping for breath does Yuri pull away, truly seeing what’s become of his kitchen for the first time. Dainty little tea lights decorate the kitchen counters, casting shivering shadows over the walls. A bouquet of roses is displayed in a vase Yuri didn’t even know they had, all radiant red and orange complimented with a few buds of yellow. There’s a pot simmering on the stove, the table’s been set, and it’s a real shame Otabek’s gone through all this trouble to make dinner because Yuri certainly doesn’t have an appetite for food right now, but he sure has one for something else. 

“It’ll keep,” Otabek says, voice husky as he seemingly reads Yuri’s mind. “I can think of something else I’d rather eat.”

Well, then. Yuri definitely doesn’t need to be told twice. Otabek’s eyes don’t leave him for a second as he bends to blow out the candles, as he saunters to their bedroom, stripping clothes as he goes. As Otabek sinks between his thighs and takes him in his mouth, pupils blown wide as he indulges in every little moan, every stutter of his hips, every breathy  _ fuck  _ that rolls from Yuri’s tongue when Beka moans around him.

And in return, Yuri does the same, eyes never straying, even when he’s embarrassed by his wanton reactions, when he wants to throw an arm over his face to hide the tears that slip over his cheeks. 

Because if Otabek isn't going to take his eyes off of him, then Yuri will be damned if he does either.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a reason why I don't write things without planning, I don't even know what this is xD I needed a break from a very very overdue fic and I ended up with whatever the fuck this is xD  
> I expect I'll come back and edit some sense into this, because let's face it, I don't know why the blindfold's there besides irony :L
> 
> [ come talk to me on tumblr @ zeldaismyhomegirl ^.^](http://zeldaismyhomegirl.tumblr.com/)  
> I hope some of y'all will enjoy this anyway
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> xoxo Cat


End file.
